Forced To Take It

Christian is horny and lonely in a largely-heterosexual Texas town. He goes to the bar every Friday night and takes a risk by hitting on hot guys—sometimes he goes home with someone, but the night usually ends in disappointment. Tonight, he’s feeling extra-desperate and decides to hit on Randall, a straight and very intimidating rancher. Christian thinks the night is over when Randall rejects him, but when Christian goes out for a smoke, Randall corners him and backs him into the alley…brutally giving him the very thing he’s been searching for.

WARNING: This 4,200-word short story contains an explicit sex scene between a young man and a burly rancher that will get you hot and bothered, and is intended for mature adults only.

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Randall. I shuddered as the powerful masculinity of his voice — no longer hushed to keep quiet from bar patrons — washed over me. I turned around to find him standing there, taller than me, giving me a stern glare.

“I see you’ve changed your mind,” I said, stepping closer to him. I smiled.

He grabbed a fistful of my shirt. “Not quite,” he said, his voice suddenly going cold.

For the first time, I felt fear. Had I so horribly misread him and earned myself a beating? People get killed for this. I tried to struggle to get away from him, but he just pulled me closer. I could smell the alcohol on his breath as he brought me within an inch of his face.

“You want my cock in your dirty fag-hole?”

I blinked several times, trying to determine if I misheard that. No ... he said exactly what I thought he’d said ... and though it was said with anger, I’m sure I heard some lust in there, too. “Uh...” I said, completely at a loss for words, my jaw hanging open.

“That’s right, open your mouth wide, cocksucker. You’re gonna need to get wider than that.”

My ability to think continued to diminish as all my energy flowed to my cock, aching and throbbing. He grabbed my hand and put it on his crotch — oh, fuck, he was huge. I think he saw the excitement in my eyes because he hauled me toward the alleyway beside the bar.

“My apartment is that way,” I finally managed to say, pointing in the opposite direction. I tripped over some trash as he pulled me along, but his grip on my shirt kept me upright.

“I don’t care,” he grunted. In the alley, he dragged me along to the back, where it crossed with another alley and he hauled me around the corner. From here, we couldn’t see any of the surrounding streets — making me wonder if he’d hauled other guys here before. “On your knees, bitch,” he ordered, shoving me to the ground.

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